The Light in the Darkness
by HarryPotterFreakk
Summary: William Malfoy is trapped. He does not know what love is; nor does he know the taste difference between blood & spit. All he wants is to run away from everything he's ever known. What would you do if all of suddenly all the doors in your life were locked?
1. Default Chapter

**Chapter One - Upon the Darkest Hour**

The darkest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close as the sky transformed from its inky black to a wondrous display of bright, beautiful colors that stretched themselves blearily across the large, stately mansions of Salazar's Hollow.

Now normally, every wizard and witch who lived in the community, at sundown would be in their own houses, conversing nonchalantly about wizards or witches that had been killed or they had killed. However, lying beneath a stained-glass window of the Malfoy Manor, was the only pedestrian out at this time of night. His name was, William Malfoy.

William Malfoy was eleven years old, and in that short space of time, he had already become nonexistent to his parents, Draco and Pansy. Even William didn't know what he had done wrong to deserve not a word from his own parents. William, or Will, as he referred himself to, looked like a portrait of his father. He had the same blonde hair that grew like a field of wheat; never having been given a proper comb, it stuck up in certain places. He wore the same silvery, soulless eyes that his father had, except they were starved from deprivation. When he was young, he vaguely remembered his eyes resembling something alive, but now as he lay beneath the window, he saw nothing at all. Everything was the same, except for the pale face of Will. Will's pale face had a bit of pink to it, something his father never had. Not that Will was grateful for it, seeing as he hadn't spoken to his father or mother in at least five years.

As he lay beneath the window, he heard the drunken howls from the neighborhood. He peeked through the scraggly, unkempt, bushes, although he already knew what was going on. At sundown, the mangled bodies of the witches and wizards who were on Harry Potter's side that had been killed in that day alone were proudly displayed against the sunset by their murderers, which was accompanied by sickening drunk laughter. His attention was averted from the sickening sight, however, by a voice with laced with rum. Even, though, he, himself had not spoken to the voice, in five years, he knew that the voice belonged to no one else, but his father.

''Goyle killed six Aurors today.'' he slurred, proudly. ''That idiot has 'proved a lot since 'Ogwarts.''

''Za bloke sure 'as, Malfoy.'' said an equally drunken voice that Will didn't recognize.

''Now 'bout da boy's Marking.''

Will's ears perked up and his eyebrows raised in unison. He tentatively stretched his own fingers up to the sill of the glass-stained window. He saw rippling images of numerous drunks changing colors as they swaggered from pane-to-pane.

''Well, eve'un knows dat da Marking takes places when da kid is at seventeen.'' Malfoy boasted. ''Bu' my kid, is special. Even, though I 'aven't talked ta da lit'le bastard in four years-''

''Five.'' Will whispered through gritted teeth.

''-He'll be Marked 'fore he goes ta 'Ogwarts.'' Malfoy said, rather proudly, taking a long swig from a rum bottle.

''No.'' Will murmured. ''No. There's no way.'' Will's throat was as dry as sandpaper, his tongue was suffocating him as his throat began to close. He brought himself to swallow, and slowly stood up from the cluster of dead, blackened rose bushes he had been concealed by.

Will, then swiftly made his way to the front walkway adorned with the same dying rose bushes as underneath the window. The high-pitched, sickening, drunk laughter plaguing his mind.

''No eleven-year-old should have to hear that.'' Will murmured, as he got onto all-fours, and shrank beneath the dead rose bushes to the terribly shaken pavement. No sooner had his palm touched the ancient gravel that a thick leather boot graced by a long, billowing black traveling cloak appeared before his splayed fingers with a loud, whip-like crack. The crack tore the air like a gunshot and made everything in Salazar's Hollow still.

Icy sweat coursing down his body, Will arched his neck to see a tall figure standing before him. The figure said nothing, but a short, evil chuckle issued from its ancient lips. Will could not seeing the figure's face as the cloak hood was shrouding any physical feature he could possibly have. He was too stunned to move. The figure reached down a spidery, almost pure white hand and grabbed Will by the shirt collar. He was too stunned to talk. The figure lead him up the walkway to the only thing kept up to decency in the mansion- the door. With his other hand, the figure grabbed at the polished, diamond handle and the door opened with a crack that made Will's stomach drop to his shoes.

The little conversation that had resumed after the arrival of the figure had quieted as the door was opened. The only light came from candle that were charmed to hover slowly around the foyer. The entire party stood still for a brief moment, then Malfoy and Pansy slowly sank into a bow, touching their unkempt marble floor, their arms stretched out before them. They stood up as everyone bowed to the figure.

''Master.'' said Malfoy softly, cupping his free hand and kissing it, Pansy doing the same.

''Rise, all of you!'' boomed the figure's voice. The voice sent chills up Will's spine, and then he didn't doubt who it was. The voice was cold, unearthly, and high-pitched. The party arose as one, and the figure stretched up his pure white hand to drew back the hood.

It was Lord Voldemort. His skin was so pale it was almost white. His nose so disfigured it looked like snake's nostrils. His hands so splayed and skinny looked like a pair of large, skinny spiders. He was completely bald, but his eyes were what announced his fierce terror. His eyes were red. Red enough to be made from the blood of every murder he had committed over the years.

''Master.'' said Malfoy hoarsely. ''Please, Master forgive my son's presumptuous antics. He is most uncouth.''

''Accepted, Malfoy.'' said Voldemort. ''Seeing as you are my right hand it would be utter peril if your son wasn't in my Army.''

''Well I don't _want_ to be in your Army, Voldemort!'' Will yelled. ''This is a horrible society!''

''YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD!'' Malfoy yelled. He struck Will hard across the face, ripping his shirt and sending him crashing into a glass swan, which shattered immediately. The splinters of glass ripped through his body, stabbing every inch of him. He cried out in pain, as blood poured from every place he could think of, but no one seemed to hear him. The party just laughed and jeered at Will. Malfoy then began hitting Will in every place imaginable. He then threw Will with all the strength he could must at the stairs, staining the marble a deep scarlet from his blood.

''GO TO YOUR ROOM AND NEVER COME OUT OR I'LL KILL YOU!'' Malfoy yelled. ''DIE THERE, BASTARD!'' Will turned on his wounded heel and limped up the stairs, grabbing onto the railing and pulling himself up.

An eternity later, he arrived at his room and fell over the threshold. His room was in total disorder; drawers were pulled open, clothes were thrown about the room, his bed was unmade, as his cheap blue wallpaper was peeling around the edges. White-hot pain pulsated through his body like poison. He lay face-down on the floor of his bedroom. His eyes watered with pain. The drunken laughter still rang in his head like a church bell. Will brought himself to stand up and limp over to the only window in his entire room, many panes were missing and those Will had repaired them as best as he could, with bits of clothing. Little sunlight permeated the window.

He then fell backward over the rusted metal bars of his bedframe, slicing open news wounds along his legs. He cried out in pain as his bloodied body settled in his thin, soiled sheets.

He was in a terribly familiar place. He collapsed onto this very bed when he father became drunk (which was often, almost every night) and would hit him. He would lay motionless for hours on end, trying to avoid thinking about the terrible pain that ripped through him as the blood-caked sores stained the already deeply soiled sheets.

He lay, his breathing shallowed as he stared around his bare, blue walls. Will began to cry softly, blinking back the tears as best as he could. All he wanted, was to be loved for once in his life. That's all he ever wanted, but would never have.

Will struggled to sit up. Then he saw by the meager light, a silhouette against the silver moon. The silhouette got larger and larger until it landed on the sill. It was a beautiful snowy owl, with a letter tied it its leg. Will limped over to the window and undid the knots that held the window together. The owl flew in, and then looked at Will with large amber eyes. Will stroked the owl with a bloodied finger, then carefully undid the letters. The owl puffed out its feathers importantly and then took flight. He then, quickly redid the knots of the windows, before carefully sinking into his soiled bed-sheets once more. There were two letters. One was the acceptance letter to Hogwarts addressed to him in emerald green ink:

**Mr. William Malfoy**

**7 Salazar Way**

**Small Bedroom**

**Salazar's Hollow, Wiltshire**

With a trembling finger, and a streak of blood, Will opened the envelope and pulled out the thick parchment. He only had to read:

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_We are pleased to inform that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Before he felt elated for the first time in his life. He brought himself to smile slightly, as he stared up at the bare ceiling. He unfolded the other letter. It was written in an untidy scrawl and said the words:

_Come to Sajourn Colks in London immediately._

Without any further thought, Will folded up the two letters and undid every bit of cloth that held together his window. He slid through the small gap, down the smooth stone roof and disappeared into the darkness, not looking back.


	2. Through Sojourn & Colks

bcenterChapter Two – Through Sojourn & Colks/center/b

The bitter cold made Will wish he had thought to bring his cloak before he ran away. The unforgiving wind made his eyes water as it whipped at his face. He blew on his free hand for warmth as the other hand was grasping the anonymous note in his jeans pocket. He limped soundly through Salazar's Hollow, grateful that the drunks of the twilight were now dozing into hangovers, and the sick laughter had abated the streets. Some of his wounds still stung, and blossomed blood onto his jeans. Will was as determined as ever not to go back from the Hell he had just leapt from. He knew from eavesdropping on the stair landing when his father held meetings that, London was a good all-night walk and Underground ride from where he now stood on the barren streets, but he didn't care.

Somewhere, somehow, someone knew he was being treated like a prisoner and wanted to help him. He continued to walk until he came upon an ignored, deserted play-park with a rusty, formidable iron fence that made Will think about falling over his bed-frame and scraping up his legs. The unkempt, ignored grass was starved yellow and brown with age, and it curled forcefully against the gate as if it had jaws. A rusted, broken jungle-gym was far back, against the thick vines that had ensnared themselves around the fence. An equally rusted and poorly repaired slide loomed in front of a bench with chipping sea-green paint. Dead flowers spilled over the flowerbeds that dotted the park. A seesaw with no paint and several noticeable bent and loose nails due to poor repair jobs remained motionless next to a colorless, lopsided merry-go-round. Will limped easily through the gates (their doors hanging off rusted hinges) and settled underneath the slide in the dead grass, curled up for warmth, and let sleep slowly overtake him.

He was standing the darkness alone. Cold, cruel laughter ripped through his ears, then a giant, misty form of his father appeared, towering in the shadows. He brought his giant hand down with a sharp intake of breath Will found himself bleeding from his forehead. The cold, cruel laughter still rang in his ears.

''What are you doing down there, little boy?'' asked a voice. Will's eyes opened and he stared around blearily. He felt blood running down the side of his face and a pounding pain in his temple. He had a sharp intake of breath when he set his soulless eyes upon a man that had spoken to him.

''It's alright.'' said the man kindly. ''I'm not going to hurt you.'' the man had vivid red hair and freckles. He had large brown eyes, a long nose, and big hands and feet. His face wore a kind smile.

''Who are you?'' Will asked shakily, struggling to prop himself up on his injured elbow.

''My name is Ron Weasley.'' the man said. ''I was the one who sent you that note. What happened? You should be at Sojourn and Colks. It's much safer than this play-park.''

''I-I was tired sir.'' said Will, still frightened. ''I'm sorry.'' he then froze his body, an expression of pain on his face.

''What are you doing?'' Ron asked, a friendly chuckle in his voice.

''Aren't you going to hit me now?'' Will asked. ''It's what my father did.''

''Hit you?'' Ron asked, as though the idea was ludicrous. ''No! I certainly am not going to hit you! I'm trying to help you, and I will. I wouldn't even dream of hitting a child. Especially one already so beat up as yourself. Did your father hit you like that?'' Ron's hand moved toward Will's newest wound and brushed back his hair. Will said nothing.

''Did he?'' Ron asked, staring into Will's eyes. ''I won't tell anyone, I just have to know.'' The tears came easily, they rolled down his cheeks, seeping into his welts. Ron wrapped his arms around Will, patting him on the back.

''It's okay.'' said Ron gently. ''It's okay, no one will hurt you anymore.'' Will's tears slowly abated and he stayed underneath the slide, being cradled by Ron.

''Sir.'' said Will slowly. ''What is Sojourn and Colks?''

''Sojourn and Colks is an old, deserted furniture store.'' Ron explained, letting go of Will.

''How could it be safe then?'' Will asked.

''Well-'' said Ron, choosing his words carefully. ''Sojourn and Colks is just a cover my wife and I use.''

''Cover for what?'' Will asked.

''A home.'' said Ron simply. ''My wife, Hermione, and I we run a home for children who have nowhere to go, and we have a unique system for finding children much like yourself.''

''What system?'' Will asked, liking this man more ever minute.

''My owl.'' said Ron. ''Pig. My wife, being a Muggle-born Witch is very intelligent and fitted Pig with her own Charm. A Deprehensio-Liberi Charm.''

''Can I live there?'' Will asked.

''Of course you can.'' said Ron. ''I think it would be best if we used a Portkey to travel instead, seeing as you're bleeding a lot, I'm not sure Muggles would take to it lightly.'' He pulled out a thin, wooden wand from his waistband and pointed it at the tightly ensnared vines.

i''Diffindo.''/I he said simply. A piece of the vine broke off with ease. Ron surveyed it lazily. i''Accio.''/I the vine floated to his hand. i''Portus.''/I the vine glowed with a faint blue light.

''Sir.'' said Will, interested. ''What are you doing?''

''You'll see.'' said Ron, grabbing Will's uninjured hand.

Will felt a painful jerk somewhere in his navel, and the play-park melted around him in a whirl of color. He felt short of breath, as if he was going to throw up, and then, he smacked onto the pavement of a deserted street. Looming before him was the dirtiest building Will had ever laid eyes on. Ron helped him to his feet.

The building was made of dirty red brick. The door was in bad shape and in need of repainting. The shop windows that displayed ugly moth-eaten couches were missing several panes. A large, splotched, almost illegible sign hanging by one rusted bronze hinge read the words: SOJOURN & COLKS in script lettering. Will surveyed the shop with distaste, but Ron wore a small, schoolboy smile as if he were being mischievous. He walked up to the shop window and rapped on the few panes that were intact with his wand. The glass was still for a moment then ripples pulsated through the glass. Ron stepped backward, seized Will's uninjured arm and leapt through the glass.

The glass window melted into a solid brick wall. Will found himself standing, not on a cold, night street in London, in front an antique furniture store, but in a large room made of red brick with an uneven off-white tiled floor. The only light came from two large windows that took up a wall each, that silvery light streamed through. There was a long, spiral staircase twisting this way and that, through the building like a giant serpent. A large, empty fireplace stood black against the red brick wall. Other than that, Will and Ron were the only two things in the room.

''Hermione!'' Ron called. ''I got him!'' With a loud crack, that sank Will's stomach to his shoes, a woman with bushy brown hair and brown eyes wearing a periwinkle blue dressing gown appeared in the room.

''This is my wife, Hermione.'' Ron introduced to Will.

''Pleasure.'' Hermione smiled at him.

''Pleased to meet you, miss.'' said Will, giving a short bow.

''What a well-mannered young man you are.'' She said. ''What is your name?''

''Hermione, let the boy sleep, he's had a long journey.'' Ron said abruptly.

''Ron!'' said Hermione, somewhat reproachful. ''He's covered in blood! Was he hit?''

''I'll tell you as soon as he is in bed. Let him sleep.'' Ron said, in a final sort of way.

''Ever since our schooldays honestly, Ron!'' said Hermione hotly, her hand resting on the stair banister. ''Very well. Come on them, er-Malfoy.'' Will's blood ran cold. As he was about to put his foot on the sixth stair, he turned to Hermione.

''Sorry?'' he asked.

''Oh, it's nothing, dear, since I do not know your actual name, I just thought of a name to call you. You look a lot like a boy I knew from my own days at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy. Sorry, if it offended you.''

''No, miss.'' Will said, as he continued to climb the stairs. ''It didn't. I don't even know the man.''

Hermione led Will up the serpent staircase to what seemed to be the topmost floor. Crooked Wizarding photographs dotted the walls, many of a group of people with flaming red hair. There was also a newspaper clipping yellowing with age that showed a black-and-white photo of a family in front of a towering pyramid pinned up next to a color Wizarding photograph that showed a teenage redhead, a black-haired-green-eyed, bespectacled teenage boy, and a teenage girl with bushy brown hair, all smiling and waving furiously, their arms linked with one another. There was just one door in the small hallway. Hermione led him to the door, but didn't open it.

''Take the bed nearest to the window.'' She said to him. ''I'll see you in the morning. Good night.'' She gave him a quick hug, before Disapparating. Will smiled slightly and turned the doorknob.

The room was large and dark. There were only a few windows along the walls, and one long window on each wall at the end. Meager moonlight played across the identical navy blue bedspreads. It swam from bed-to-bed, not lingering much. Will watched the silver light curiously, following it slowly from sleeping child to sleeping child. The moonlight reached the bed nearest to the window and too tired to even take off his shirt, fell into the navy blue bedspread. It was like flopping onto a cloud. A digital clock embedded in the red-brick wall flashed neon green numbers. It flashed 4:16 AM, before Will's eyes slowly closed.

An hour or so later, Will was jolted awake by voices arguing, trying to whisper, but not having much success.

''Ron!'' said a voice, which Will recognized as Hermione's. ''You were the one who wouldn't tell me! And now, you want to throw him out? You were the one that found him!'' she said hotly.

''Well, that was before I truly knew who he was!'' Ron yelled. ''Had I have knew he was that-that wanker's offspring I would have left him to die under that slide!''

''So what?'' Hermione yelled. ''So, he's Malfoy's child! We're just Sam's-''

''Shut up!'' Ron hissed. ''Point is, he's a damn spy for his father!''

''How would you know, Ron?'' Hermione yelled. ''The poor thing is covered in blood! I doubt he'd be a spy of any sort!''

''Fine!'' Ron yelled. ''But when we wake up and see the Dark Mark over our house don't blame me!''

''So, you aren't going to toss him out?'' Hermione asked, tentatively. There was a long, hard silence following Hermione's inquiry. Will's breath caught in his throat, staring at the four square parquet. Anxiousness pulsating through his body like poison.

''No.'' said Ron, finally. ''I won't.''

''Do you promise, Ron?'' Hermione asked him, worriedly.

''Yes, Hermione, dear, I promise, I won't throw him out, but Austin won't be at all pleased with it.'' He replied.

''Well, Austin will have to adapt, just like Scabbers did to Crookshanks, remember?'' said Hermione, her voice full of warm happiness.

''Hermione.'' Said Ron, somewhat stiffly. ''Scabbers turned out to be a mass murderer.''

''Oh right.'' Hermione murmured. ''Right. Bad example.''

''Anyway, it's late, and you haven't laid down at all since you brought Will here. I'll tend to the children this morning. You sleep.'' Hermione said sweetly.

''Thank you.'' Said Ron, yawning. There was the sound of them clambering up the serpentine staircase, and that was the only sound Will heard as he fell back into his pillows, wondering if Ron would keep his promise to Hermione.


End file.
